


Resolution

by S_EER (Fritiriel)



Series: The Project [3]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Explicit Sexual Content, Fanart, Guest Fanart, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 12:32:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3209381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fritiriel/pseuds/S_EER
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the practice, it’s time for the real thing…</p><p>[Best avoided by those who believe high school kids aren't into sex]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resolution

**Author's Note:**

> This was a birthday gift for ♥[Notabluemaia](http;//archiveofourown.org/users/Notabluemaia/pseuds/Notabluemaia)♥ in 2010 so beta duties were undertaken by [hildigard_brown](http;//archiveofourown.org/users/hildigard_brown/pseuds/hildigard_brown) and [Telstar](http;//archiveofourown.org/users/Altopiano/pseuds/Telstar). Thank you, my dears! (All remaining errors I put there myself, of course, in last minute tweaks!)

It’s one thing to be more aware than maybe you should, of the smart, geeky kid in glasses (except it’s contacts, tonight). 

He’s younger than I am, after all, but I’ve sort of felt his eyes on me almost from the minute he transferred to Jefferson High from out of state. Me, I’m bi, but my gaydar’s usually pretty good and I’m _almost_ sure. His only move so far, though, has been to barrel his way onto the school debate team with slick arguments founded on well reasoned premises—and a lot of sly humor. He’s good—an asset, even. We won again tonight and now—after we’ve dropped off Sue Parker and Judy Ellerman at their homes after the cross-town competition—he blandly tells me this is the best night of the year to catch Orion at its clearest. Though, of course, he adds, you need real, _out-of-town_ darkness to clearly see what a guy really ought not to miss seeing. 

It’s something else altogether to be sitting here now in my dad’s old Chevy, _way_ out of town and well off of the highway—as if tonight was a date all along. Because this is parking, whatever Elijah Wood may say about certain constellations being unusually bright just now. I may be a sucker for the biggest, bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, but I’m not _that_ dumb. 

And who cares, really, how we got here? Because this _is_ , quite definitely, parking.

‘So,’ I say, slow and deliberate, tapping my left hand on the steering wheel but letting the smile show in my voice. ‘Orion?’

He smiles back, a dirty quirk of lips. ‘You want to see stars, man?’ he says, unclicking his seat belt and kneeling on the seat to face me. ‘I can show you stars…’

I can’t help it. I have to laugh.

But then Elijah is leaning forward and I’m sliding across the seat to meet him. His hands are suddenly cool at the sides of my face, and there can’t be a guy alive that could laugh right now, not even at the cheesiest come on _ever_. Not with soft lips barely touching like this—eager but uncertain, wanting but not pushing. Hesitating, in case. 

He’s brave in a way I’m not sure I could be. For all he knows I’m a latent ’phobe, taking my chance to get the little queer way out here where there are—thank God!—no witnesses. I bring my hands up his back, with an encouraging smile. He has to know I want this as much as he does. His head tilts to mirror mine, and the first kiss is easy, almost polite. The second one isn’t. Elijah dives right back in again, like I’ll shut down on him if he’s not quick. He has the enthusiasm alright, but I get the feeling whoever he’s kissed so far was a novice, too. Then I get it—whichever guy he’s done stuff with before didn’t kiss. He’s not into girls that I’ve ever seen—trust me, I’d have noticed—and the other guy (guys, maybe?) _didn’t kiss_. I can show him, if he’ll let me.

Elijah pulls back a bit, and he grins at me—a wide, sassy grin that fills his face with the relief of getting what he’s asking. Just before his mouth lands on mine I bring one finger up to gently tap his bottom lip. His eyes open wide. He knows what I’m asking and he nods, but I still shiver when a sly little catlick quickly circles my finger, just once, before it’s gone again. I suspect Elijah’s gonna be a natural at this as I frame his smile in a chain of tiny kisses. Then my tongue’s slicking the way, tracing the outline, thrusting against Elijah’s, feeling it rasp against the soft underside of mine as I stroke the roof of his mouth in slow, thorough sweeps. Oh yeah, he learns fast. Fast and good.

Eventually the need for air beats out the need to kiss, and we have to separate. I rest my head on the curve of skin where neck meets shoulder, taking in the scent of him with every slowing breath, feeling him shudder to the warm damp each time I breathe out. Elijah gasps and makes this empty kind of noise that grabs me way inside. It takes me in a single leap from the kind of wanting that sends you parking in the first place to the kind that’s sharp and close and almost painful. He’s panting now, writhing under my hands, doing his best to bring us together, to rub his cock against mine through our pants. It’s too fast. I’ve waited—hoped—too long for this. I don’t want it to be over, all in a minute. 

‘Slow down,’ I say, and brush the backs of my fingers down one side of his face.

‘No,’ he says, reaching out to drag down my zipper. He’s guiding it with one finger in back to make sure he doesn’t catch anything important by mistake. I don’t squeak under his touch, but it’s close. ‘Hup!’ he commands, and before I even think about it, I’m hupping so he can get all that cloth out from between us.

‘Damn backseat driver!’ I say, hoping the growl will make up for whatever it was that wasn’t a squeak, but he just looks down at me and quietly says, ‘Wow.’ He very gently touches with one finger and I think I might come just from that. 

No, I want to see him, have to touch him, now.

‘You!’ I say, not very coherently, grabbing for his zipper but still trying to be as careful as he was—and then I’m completely thrown. I don’t feel the loose cotton of boxers under there—not even the stretch of whitey tighties. Only a velvety glide of skin, impatient for escape. Only Elijah. I’d’ve noticed if he went commando before, but he does tonight. I shove his jeans as far down as they’ll go, and breathe out my own quiet _Wow_.

Wouldn’t it figure Elijah’s cock is just like him? Just exactly as pushy, as bouncy, as eye-catching. Just as desirable…

My hands slide in back of his pants to shove them down and pull us together, and my palms confirm what I’ve suspected from the first—the perfect roundness they find there. Pert. No other word for it—his ass is _pert_. Not just my imagination, then, from all the times I’ve watched him walk away from me, desperately pretending interest in something— _any_ thing—else nearby. It vaguely occurs to me I have an imagination to be proud of, if it can conjure this out from the baggy pants he wears.

But then I’m not thinking at all any more because Elijah says, ‘ _Yessss!_ ’ and he’s straddling my thigh and his cock’s sliding against mine. He licks his palms, wet and sloppy, and gets them round us both, squeezing us tight together, working him against me and me against him. He’s making all these huffy, panting noises—half words, all encouragement. I’m straining into his touch, humping through his fingers just as fast as I can while my hands slide under his shirt and just hang on for the ride—holding him up, keeping him safe to do this and only this for us. Then everything goes a bit fuzzy and a lot slippery and really, really urgent, and he throws his head back and gasps, and he’s coming and coming and I’m just seconds behind him, dragged over by the sound he makes. And oh, it’s good—so good. More than that, I know that once isn’t—can’t ever be—quite enough, for either of us.

He falls forward against me and we’re both breathing hard like we just ran the 100 meters. Damn near beat the world record, too.

I know guys don’t cuddle. I know we’re supposed just to clean up a bit and get the hell over it, like nothing happened—until the next time (please God, let there be a next time). But Elijah doesn’t seem to know that and I’m glad of it. He’s still lying up against me. To hell with the mess there between us, he’s settled down on my chest like he’s thinking of moving in. I look down and his eyes are closed, but there’s a hell of a smug smile on those lips.

‘Hey,’ I say, just wanting him to look at me, but he only wiggles closer and says, ‘Wow,’ again. Different intonation this time, long and slow and kinda purr-y. I get what he means—like finding a better word would be a waste of effort.

I smooth my hands up and down his back again. Up and down. Up and down. Elijah nestles in, getting comfortable, and soon he’s breathing to the rhythm of my hands moving over him… All of a sudden, I’m waking with a jerk and I think we may have dozed off a while. Elijah’s awake now, too. He rubs his cheek against me and says, ‘Wanted this with you for a long time. Ever since I came to Jefferson.’

‘Yeah? Me too. Just didn’t know if…’

‘Yeah,’ he agrees. He goes quiet for a bit and I wonder what’s going on inside his head. I’m starting to think it can’t be good when he takes a deeper breath and pushes back to look at me. 

‘Sean,’ he says, and I hear he’s nervous now in a way he wasn’t before, ‘there’s more we can— _you_ can do.’ He trails his hand—slow and determined— toward my cock. Never got real soft while we were out of it and now it’s on its way back up—and it’s not on its own. He ducks his head a little, peering out from under his lashes at me. I’ve known from the start I’m gonna be a real sucker for that particular expression. 

‘If you want…’ he adds. It’s almost a question—tentative. He’s not being coy—he’s being careful. He doesn’t want to freak me out if _more_ ’s not my thing.

If I _want_! Christ, I’ve just _had_ more than I ever thought I’d get from him, sticky and sated right here across my thighs. And now…

Oh, I want, alright. I really, _really_ want.

‘More?’ I can’t help the croak but he’s not gonna call me on it. Not when he’s looking at me like I’ve got what _he_ wants and he knows—knows already from the neediness in that one word—I’ll give it to him. 

‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘C’mon.’

And with that he’s all action again, toeing off sneakers and socks quicktime, eeling out of his pants altogether. I blink, and they’re falling casually across the steering wheel. Another blink, and his shirt’s draping the rearview mirror. I’m left staring at the perfect curve of that ass as he scrabbles in the back pack he goes nowhere without. 

‘Sean!’ he says over one wiry shoulder, bossy and confident again, now. ‘Pants off, backseat!’ 

I get with the program, fleetingly glad it’s almost summer because the seats back here are plenty cool on my ass right now. But then Elijah’s slithering through from the front, and I forget cold, I forget everything, just seeing him like this. He’s completely naked now, and what light there is in here looks to have gathered all on his skin, sheening it smooth and pale and—

_Oh God, I want him!_

I’ve never done much more than kissing and touching. Not with Angie, Sara or Joanne, and definitely not with a guy. Not with Paul, though he wanted to—and he _did_ kiss. Just didn’t seem right, with him. Not as if I haven’t thought about it, though. Boned up on it—so to speak—online, but I didn’t expect… not yet, anyways. I think I know how—I just hope it’s enough.

Does Elijah? He seems pretty well clued up—condom wrapper crackling in one hand, holding out lube with the other as he eases himself onto my lap, kneeling over me. 

It’s too much, too soon. I take them from him, laying them on the parcel shelf behind my head. I’m doing my best to ignore the way his cock is sliding jolts of need against mine, grateful it’s so little time since we came or I couldn’t slow this down at all. I put my arms around him to bring him into another of those kisses, but he resists. He’s looking at me like he thinks I’ve changed my mind— _as if!_ But it’s not a race this time, and I don’t want to just fuck him—and isn’t _that_ something I never thought I’d hear myself think?

I don’t want to just fuck him, I want _him…_ I want Elijah. Suddenly, I really hate that he’s done this with someone else.

‘Shhh!’ I say. I frame his face in my palms the way he did with mine, tilting to just where I need him. The kissing’s slower now, hot and wet. Not so urgent, just as needy. Elijah’s hands slide up my arms and he’s holding on like he thinks he’s gonna fall. Like I might let him!

‘C’mon, Sean,’ he says, breathless and eager.

‘Don’t want to hurt you,’ I tell him.

‘You won’t—I know how,’ he insists. ‘Lemme show you. Wanna show you how to fuck me.’

He’s hot and wanton like this but somehow, knowing somebody else has had this, had him, takes the edge off. ‘Who—’ but I bite the rest back in time. 

Elijah giggles. ‘You!’ he says, and laughs again. 

It makes his skin skitter against mine, everywhere, and only a real need to know lets me ask, ‘ _What_?’ 

‘Jacking, with fingers inside. Practicing, just for you!’ He frowns. ‘You haven’t ever?’ he asks. ‘Not even for yourself?’

I shake my head, feeling a bit naïve, but Elijah looks—I realize he looks kind of relieved. He doesn’t want that I’ve done this with anyone else, either. He grins. ‘You don’t know what you’re missing!’ he says. 

Possessive. I know I am, always have been. Not going to change anytime soon, and especially not where Elijah’s concerned. And right now I just have to wrap my hands over those narrow hips, stroke my thumbs over soft pale skin in front. Claiming him—in my mind, if not in his. I need to splay my fingers wide across his ass, slide them down to trace the folded arc where ass meets leg. It makes him pant and shake. I drag one finger more carefully along that hidden line. The panting and shaking are even better so I do the same the other side, as slow as I can make it, wanting like I am.

‘Sean, I—’ the words come out kind of strangled. ‘—I need you for real now. Please, Sean?’ He’s begging, and there’s no way I can resist if I even wanted to. 

He picks up the lube, flipping the cap open with just his thumb to squeeze it out on his fingers.

I’m grabbing it from him before I even think about it. ‘No, _I’ll_ do it!’

He looks at me, eyes dark and wanting, and he nods—too desperate now to remind me I have no idea what the hell I’m doing, when _he_ does. He moves off of me onto the seat, turning away with his knees spread wide, shuffled deep into the seat, his arms folded on the parcel shelf. He rests one cheek on them, face turned toward me, watching—trusting me to get this right for him. 

His ass curves out at me, tempting and almost luminous in the moonlight. For moments on end I can’t move for staring again.

Maybe he thinks I’ve stopped because I’m nervous, even a bit squicked, now I’ve actually got to do it, ’cos he’s begging again. ‘Just—just touch me inside, Sean— _please_?’

And suddenly I’m racing toward the edge again, from the desperate crack in his voice. My hand’s not real steady as I squirt lube, slimy cold, on the palm of my hand. I dip into it, fingers against thumb, wanting to warm it a little for him, but he’s wiggling his ass at me, impatient now.

‘You keep doing that and fingers’ll be _all_ you’ll get!’ I threaten, and my voice is just as unsteady, because I’m really not joking, here. He rolls his eyes at me, but the rest of him is still now, and waiting.

A few calming, necessary breaths and I’m ready.

My fingers run, skiddy slippery, between his ass cheeks and Elijah’s breath catches. I remember the thing about thousands of nerve endings down there, and I slick the pad of one finger round and round. He pushes back against it, panting and squirming, saying stuff like, ‘C’mon,’ and ‘Mmm,’ and ‘Oh—oh yeah,’ over and over. A wriggle and another push and, just like that, I’m inside already. He’s hot and tight around my finger, and I try circling it, just a little. The idea is to get him to open up, I know, but there is no resistance, only a damp satin heat that clings to me, drawing me in. 

Two fingers and he’s panting hard, pushing rhythmically back on them. It’s all one breathless, murmured chant now, a barely verbal stream of Elijah telling me he wants this as much as I do. Moonlight catches in the sheen of sweat that’s pearling finely down his back. I’m still mesmerized by how he looks, but I have to taste him too. I’m dipping into the tiny pool of sweat that’s gathered just where the swell of his ass starts, and I’m kissing and licking, licking and kissing my way up his back, and when I reach his neck, he turns his head into a real kiss, not snatching now, letting me work his mouth gently, letting me fuck him slowly with my tongue while my fingers work in and out—three fingers now, slow and easy. 

I remember more of what I’ve read and I push in further, not sure where—and then I _know_ where, because he’s shaking all over. His mouth slackens and he falls out of the kiss. That same sheen’s suddenly rising on his face, too. I’m not doing much more than gently stroking but I know now what I read about the prostate just didn’t do it justice.

Elijah throws back his head and shudders, and I have to stop everything or this is going to be over for me before I—before I—I can’t even _think_ it, or I’ll come right here and now. 

His lips part and he breathes a sharp sound, wild and desperate. The moon’s profiling all his desire in that one small sound, and all I can do is stare. I can’t really believe it’s me he’s wanting—been wanting. Me he’s waited for.

[](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v462/Tiriel/?action=view&current=Desire_by_moonlight.jpg)

This is no geeky kid any more. This is some fey creature of the night, lost in his need—mysterious and beautiful as hell—and way beyond my league. But then he makes that weird sound again. It somehow matches all the wanting that’s in him, but now _Sean_ is mixed in with it as well, and it _is_ me he’s waiting for, and I can do this, I can.

‘Now, Sean,’ he says, and it’s an order, as tight and desperate as I feel. He spreads his legs wide again and puts his head down on the parcel shelf. ‘ _Now_!’

I scooch up to kneel behind that beautiful ass, grabbing the lube again and getting it almost everywhere but where I need it most. Then I can’t find the condom and how in hell am I going to open it with fingers this sticky, anyhow? But Elijah turns his head and the packet’s there, one corner tight between his teeth. I only have to pull and it rips open for me. I expect another fiasco, trying to get it on—I never did this before and my hands are shaking so bad now—but it unrolls like a dream. More lube. Need more lube, but then—then I’m ready.

And—aw, shit! While I’ve been struggling with the slip-slide of lube and never having done this before, Elijah’s brought his arms down and he’s holding himself open for me.

‘Elijah!’ The voice is thin and scratchy and it might just be me, but if it is, I can’t find a thing else to say because I’m there and I’m pushing into him.

Elijah’s breathing hard and this is—oh God, he’s tight, so tight but he’s got me, he’s taking me in, somehow he’s taking me, a bit at a time, stretching round me, breathing deep and careful. He’s facing me still, his head resting on one arm now, and despite all shadow I see his bottom lip bitten to whiteness. 

It’s killing me to take this slow when what I need is to slam right into him.

But I don’t. Elijah’s the one who knows what he needs, what he can take. I let him do the work, set the pace for this. All I can do is grit my teeth and hang in there. Yeah, right. The muscles in my thighs are screaming ‘Move, _move_!’ all the time he’s rocking himself back, then forward, then back some more, just a bit deeper each time. 

‘I—God, you’re big, Sean!’ he says, voice almost gone. 

‘Sorry—wait, I’ll—’ _pull out_ I’m going to say, hoping I can make myself do it, but Elijah reaches back and grabs my hip, keeping me there.

‘No!’ he says. ‘I’m—I’ll be okay. Just—stay still, yeah?’

I freeze in place. I’ll not move now, if I have to come like this. Not till he says so. Maybe I can help, though. I quickly lick my palm, get it good and wet, and slide it round between Elijah and the seat. He’s not so hard any more but he starts to firm up again when I take hold. I roll my thumb over the head and he shivers, still rocking, rocking. His cock starts to move in my hand. It’s heavier, harder, and that’s not just spit any more, letting my thumb slide and circle and tease. I jack him a couple times and he takes a shuddery breath, then he’s all the way back. I’m all the way in, with his ass warm and smooth in the cradle of my hips.

‘Not—not going to last long!’ I warn him, and I gasp aloud at the sudden increase in sensation as he clenches around me.

‘Just fuck me, Sean!’ He jabs his ass back at me and God, so _tight_ … 

‘Again with the back-seat—’ 

‘ _Front_ -seat!’ Elijah contradicts and does this sort of wiggle with his hips. He snorts a laugh that I feel with him, and it’s wonderful. 

‘Whatever!’ I gasp out. ‘ _I’m_ driving here!’ 

‘Yeah?’ he says, rolling his ass in my lap. I nearly come on the spot.

‘Elijah,’ I say, and I’m grimly clinging to control now. I breathe deep and he must hear how close I am. 

He waits, only the steady pulse of blood in his cock moving now, and maybe I can hold on if I just do this for him. I’m still mindlessly circling the tip with my thumb the way I do it for myself and I think I’m doing okay, but suddenly Elijah grabs my hand, and I freeze. He tugs it up and away. Before I can panic too much though, he plunges his mouth down on my thumb. He swirls his tongue around it just once, then he’s spreading spit, as much and as fast as he can, pushing me away and down till my fist closes back around him. His breath’s coming short and tight again and he groans, but not from pain. Not any more.

His head drops forward. ‘It’s just—it’s you, Sean—not…’

I get it. Not jerking his own cock, not pushing down on his fingers—it’s _me_. A white hot zing whips through me, thinking about that, about watching him do it, just for me. I have to rest my head on his back a minute or two, still jacking him slowly, then kiss across his shoulders, before I dare pull out and push back in. A rhythm steadily builds between us and Elijah’s eagerly rising to meet each thrust. I don’t have a thought to spare for angles, as fast as we’re moving now, but I know each time I hit the magic button because Elijah’s pleasure scorches through him, and on to inflame mine.

‘Show—show me that some day soon, Elijah? Maybe do it—do it to me, too?’

He makes that sound again, the one that’s wild and lost and so much Elijah. He goes rigid underneath me and then his cock’s jolting and spitting in my hand. Me, when I even remember to, I’m breathing like it’s rationed—short hard bursts with no room between to say his name. He’s clutching tight around me, and I’m so damn _close_. It’s sitting there, just waiting in back of my spine, and my hips are stuttering before it, rhythm completely lost to heat and speed and desperation.

More noise, and this time, it’s me. Elijah’s flexing muscles I didn’t know a guy could have, and now I’m one gibbering, juddering babble of senseless sound and straining movement, clipped and choppy, running all together—that’s me, getting closer—cl—c-c—

—and at the end, I don’t find it, it finds me—sharp and painful and the most glorious thing _ever_.

I fall forward over his back, catching myself up with a hand on the seat, so I don’t squash him. Even when our breathing’s slowed right down, he doesn’t move.

‘Elijah?’ He doesn’t say anything. His head’s resting on his arms like he’s hiding from me, and I’m getting worried now. As gently as I know how, I pull out of him. ‘Elijah! Are you okay?’

He blows out one huge breath, and at last he answers me. 

‘Okay?’ He carefully pushes himself up off of the seat and turns to face me. ‘I am so okay you may have to spend the rest of your life with me glommed to your leg if you’re not actually inside me!’ He says it so solemnly I almost believe him. Then I realize I want to. Maybe not literally, but like they say, it’s the thought that counts.

I pull him into a hug. His skin’s warm and smooth against me and I wish we had more time here.

‘We gotta go, Elijah. Don’t know about you, but I’ll be grounded till a year next Christmas if it’s as late as I think it is!’

‘It’s not so late,’ he says quietly. ‘Might have been, if I hadn’t—you know— _practiced_.’ 

I can’t help asking. ‘Really for me?’

‘Really for you, Sean.’ He sounds sad now, and maybe it’s because I’m not the only one who’d like this to be in a bed and not my dad’s old Chevy. Because he’d like me to hold him the way I want to—maybe fool around some more, then watch the stars and fall asleep together. Maybe he doesn’t want it to be over, too.

I bury my face in his hair, nuzzling at his neck, his cheek, his mouth. ‘Next time,’ I whisper into the kiss, ‘I want to see your face.’ 

 

[](http://www.statcounter.com/)  
Plus, Last Minute Bonus Gift-pic from [hildigard_brown](%E2%80%9Dhttp;//archiveofourown.org/users/hildigard_brown/pseuds/hildigard_brown%E2%80%9D)!

  
[](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v462/Tiriel/?action=view&current=ResNota.jpg)   



End file.
